


see you soon

by leo_minor



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds
Genre: (and saying goodbye to the world), Bittersweet, Death, Established Relationship, Final Days, Grief/Mourning, Growing Old Together, M/M, Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Passing away, Years Later, two old men in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 06:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20774228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leo_minor/pseuds/leo_minor
Summary: Today is the day.He can feel it.





	1. the first

Today is the day. He can feel it.

He doesn’t think very much these days – he tends to forget to, and sitting in silence is what he does best. In more recent times, he spends most of his time lying down and staring at the wooden ceiling of their cottage. He’s seen it so many times, on so many nights, that he knows every inch of it and recognises every catch in the wood. He’s looked up at in on troubled nights, on happy nights, after a nightmare like after making love. It’s a ceiling he’s familiar with. In more recent times, he looks at it again and remembers.

It has gotten progressively blurrier as the years slip by. His eyes were the first thing to go, and his husband had immediately taken to over-describing everything to him, including his very irises. Milky, he always said. Milky and still faintly blue, like in their young years. Many things have changed since then, for good and for bad : they’ve lost strength and gained wrinkles and all sorts of unpredictable backpains, but they got to do it together. This makes aging less bitter, and less frightening.

In fact, he isn’t frightened at all. This has been a long time coming, after all. He suspects that it’ll be harder on his husband than it will be on him. They’d promised never to leave each other behind, but his body has been fighting for years, and today, it’s reached its limit. He hopes he’ll be forgiven for going first.

_Hey, _his hand reaches out blindly over the bed. Slow footsteps approach him, making floorboards creek in a way that is just fitting. A bony hand engulfs his and squeezes. Fingers gently brush what’s left of his hair out of his face and settle on his cheek. The ring one of them carries is cold against his skin.

“Hey there,” the old man replies. In his voice dances an eternal chuckle that refuses to die away. Today, it’s just a little sadder than usual.

His breathing is slow and painful, for his ribs have become too heavy for him, or his lungs too weak. Years take their toll, and he’d gotten more than his fair share of them. Still, something selfish within him wishes he could live to see a few more. He coughs dryly and ignores the pain with will only a senile old wreck could muster.

“_I’m sorry,” _his lips form. Even though they’re cracked and thin, his husband can still read them faultlessly. He can’t see how he takes his words, but he hears how shaky his exhale is. They’ve cried in their time, but causing him sadness in this moment is an unbearable thought. He places a hand on top of the one on his cheek and tries to smile.

“It’s alright,” comes his slow reply. Despite all his strength, and all his joy, he’s wavering. “You’ve fought so hard and for so long… Mr Hero.”

He hasn’t heard that nickname in years, and it wins a hearty laugh from him – his last hearty laugh. He feels his husband’s lips press against his forehead, gifting him with a delicate kiss. It’s ridiculous to imagine the old man sniffling, but that’s what he’s doing, and for once he’s glad his eyesight is gone. Seeing that would surely make him cry as well, and that’s not how he wants to go.

“_I love you, Ravio,” _he mouths. At once he knows that those four words will only draw more tears, but god, he needs to say them one last time. If there’s one thing he wants to leave behind, it’s not the exploits, but the love he’d harboured for his husband for so long, for eighty whole years. He loves him so.

“And I love you, Link,” he says, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, a few tears leak down his wrinkled face, and he wipes them away with haste. “Go and rest, now. I’ll see you soon.”

And those words are what free him of regret. They’re what loosens the tense edges of his lips. Not too soon, he wants to tell him, because he’ll be so angry if he doesn’t live on after him ! but his brain can no longer supply the words. He’s going to rest, now, with his lover’s blessing. After such a long life, he’s surely earned it.

Rest takes him away, and his last sensation is the warmth of loving arms around him. His eyes close for the last time. He sees no light.


	2. the second

Today is the day. He can feel it.

He hasn’t gone out of the house enough since having it to himself. His legs aren’t what they used to be and groan least when he sits in his armchair by the window, looking into his empty home. Every inch of it carries a happy memory, and a bit of his late husband. In some way, it makes him feel less alone. But today he wakes up and he knows that he needs to see the world.

He’s been wondering, for the past few months, why he’s been given more time and what he’s meant to do with it. Now, with grass crunching under his feet, he’s grateful for it. Birds chirp merrily on the cottage’s roof – life goes on. It had after his husband, and it will after him. It’s a comforting thought.

The little grave sits in their back garden. He’d insisted on digging part of it himself until his back gave in completely. The village kids did a better job that he ever could have, and he regrets not thanking them more for it. Fresh flowers lie on the soft spot of soil in front of the gravestone. He wonders who will keep bringing them once he joins his lover, but it occurs to him that they’ll no longer bee needed. After all, they’re just an apology – a _sorry to keep you waiting. _But he won’t be waiting much longer.

His strength is gone. His arms shake when he lowers himself into the deck chair set out for him, and nearly give way. Such is old age. His head has felt light, in the last few days – perhaps it’s getting ahead of him. The worst is the tiredness that had only increased each month, until getting up became an ordeal. Walking these few steps has taken all of his will, and all of his love. In a way, he’s glad that it’ll be coming to an end.

His time, sitting back looking over their garden, is strange, for he finds he has few regrets. Complaining, at his age, just seems ungrateful. He’s had a good life, and good health – he’s made his share of mistakes, but usually, he’s moved forward. That is what has brought him here, basking in the peaceful sunlight. And that is what has brought him the love that still burns within him, at his final hour.

“I’m sorry,” he tells the small gravestone, his voice weak and weary. He doesn’t know he’s mirroring his husband’s last words, for they’ve faded from his mind. “I know you would have liked me to hold on longer, but I’m so very tired. I’ve been missing you so badly, Link, and I think it’s time I join you. That way, we can finally rest together.”

His throat is tight and his eyes red. Unable to kneel before it without toppling over, he blows the gravestone a kiss and hopes it reaches his lover’s lips. “See you soon,” he says, and speaks no more. Those will be his final words.

He stays outside a while longer, looking at the blue sky. He thinks about the good times and the bad times, the ups and the downs, the happiest days of their lives. He thinks about how pretty they looked, back in the days, when his husband’s hair was still a silky blond and his skin shone in the sun, blemished only by scars. He thinks about how far they’d gone and how they’ve never let go of the other’s hand. He thinks about how even now he’s still with him or within him. He thinks until he has nothing more to think about, and then gets up and steps back inside.

He goes back to bed. His frail body sinks into the mattress and his eyes flutter shut. His mind welcomes sleep with open arms, and for a while his breathing is shallow, unaware of the world. When he’s ready, it comes to a slow stop and he sighs one last time. It isn’t a sad sigh. Familiar warmth is already leading him away.


End file.
